


with room enough to heal (or five ways in which martha jones made the lives of those in torchwood much better)

by zauberer_sirin



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-08-27
Updated: 2008-08-27
Packaged: 2018-05-08 00:23:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5476109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zauberer_sirin/pseuds/zauberer_sirin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Martha's awesomeness makes the everybody's lives better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	with room enough to heal (or five ways in which martha jones made the lives of those in torchwood much better)

**Jack**

 

There's a girl and she is the kind of girl Jack would help carry her suitcase from the station.

Except Martha has a car and he is in danger of over-romanticizing trains.

Jack thinks he might be having a bit of a nervous breakdown, day by day. It's like now that there's no end of the world, no Apocalypse to prevent, and even Martha and Mickey seem to have settled just about fine at work, the nagging emptiness that he hasn't allowed himself to feel for months is becoming audible. He's had more than a lifetime of mental illnesses to know when he is going through a meltdown and he hides it well behind the usual smile and the usual cup of coffee -Ianto's of course; Mickey had tried, as a gesture, on his first day, and he could have got away with the unintentional poisoning but the _tons_ of cinnamon were too much. Mickey is now banned from ever touching the coffee machine. He doesn't seem too worried about that, not a loss to be mourned.

On her first day of work Jack calls Martha Jones to his office.

She is no longer with UNIT and the balance of power is a bit askew and Jack wonders when they will run into troubles with the chain of command here, because Martha knows how to follow orders but she also knows _when not to_ and Jack has enough trouble as it is with Gwen in that department.

Martha looks sunny and hopeful on that first day. That lasts about seven minutes.

Jack makes her watch while he opens one of the safes in his office. Martha has time to lean in and see the name scribbled there and wince a bit.

"I wanted to give you this. It should probably be kept in the Hub, rules and regulations. But I feel like I need to."

He gives Martha the sealed and marked bag.

From that day on Martha Jones, Doctor Martha Jones wears a stethoscope of a dead man she almost loved.

Jack gives her Owen's lab coat as well but it's too big too wear at work, Martha's shoulders too narrow. She keeps it anyway.

 

\--

 

The End of The World Survivors Club never stops being a reality, now with another apocalypse under your belt. But one always remembers one's first end of the world best and in the same sense Satellite Five will always be Jack's own personal Waterloo, the Master will always be Martha's. Jack never knew her well _before_ but he knows enough to believe she was happier before she ever met the Doctor, and also that a Martha Jones died during the Year That Never Was and another one emerged. Theirs is a secret, coded language that Gwen and Ianto resent and Mickey ignores. Survivors and as such they often find themselves sharing dinner and company in Jack's office long after the proper hours for dinner and company have passed.

Jack remembers that once he had to put his life in her hands -a stranger's hands, after all- because _he had to_ , so now he is very careful to remind himself he is putting his life, a little bit more each day, in her hands because he chooses to.

They are friends now, but sometimes they revert back to being Partners At The End Of The World, badges of honour. Martha doesn't talk much about what happened to her, during that year, so Jack fills her silences for her. They tell bitter tales bordering on the fondness with which soldiers often miss the war.

For example, Jack one night says,

`I was a little bit in love with your sister, you know. I mean, she fed me for a year, I had no other choice but fall in love. Talk about maid fantasies.´

Martha smiles because well, Jack really means it, because Jack always falls in love for real.

 

\--

 

The first time the Doctor visits Jack is still all broken and sharp from Tosh and Owen. It's been months but the full impact of their death comes only now, now that their places have been filled somehow, now that Mickey and Martha are here and doing their work and doing it well.

Jack thinks he might be having some sort of really delayed depression.

The Doctor looks a bit sadder and a bit wiser, but then again he always does. And beautiful, he always looks beautiful.

"Martha told you?"

"She will tell me," the Doctor says matter-of-factly.

"How is that not messing with the timeline?"

"Cheap tricks are allowed."

`What did she tell you? Will tell you. No, I'm curious.´

`That you were still having a rough time when she came on board. But that thank God I came and cheered you. She told me this and I went _Oh, right_. Sometimes being a time traveller is a huge pain in the arse.´

Jack watches a couple trying to take a picture of themselves with the waterfall behind and he grabs the Doctor's coat and drags him to one side to make room. The Doctor notices that Jack's fingers shake a bit twisted on the fabric of his clothes.

`Jack...´

And it's the voice of the Doctor, ancient and pure at the same time, that _Jack_ and Jack almost ends up believing it has always been his name when the Doctor says it like that.

"It´s not the first time I lose people close to me,´ Jack argues with himself. `I should be better at it."

"One does not get better at it, one just learns to hide it better," the Doctor shrugs. And really, he should know.

"I'm good at running away. But I'm very bad at going on."

The Doctor raises an eyebrow.

"Jack, look who you are talking to."

And Jack has to laugh because yes, really, look who he is talking to. Jack is really an amateur compared to the Doctor.

“So, what are you doing now?”

“Same as always.”

“New companion?”

“Not exactly. Not yet. I've been thinking. You know how it goes, you meet people…”

“You were always good at filling the spaces.”

The Doctor looks down at his hands.

Jack stares at him, almost physically feeling what goes through the Doctor’s head.

"Martha is inside, you know."

"Yes. But I'm not inclined to say Hi, that would definitely mess the timeline."

"You sure that's all?" Jack asks, already knowing the answer.

"Takes a coward to know one, Captain."

And he salutes. Jack chuckles. _Yes_. Then the Doctor takes a look around the place, a look that it's so textbook _nostalgic_ that Jack feels suddenly very old.

"Do you remember?" He asks.

"Yes," the Doctor replies with a long breath.

"Rose and Mickey and the Slitheen. The Rift."

"The Bad Wolf project."

"We had a laugh in our time. Eh?" Jack nudges him with a quick jab on the shoulder.

"Jumping Jack Flash," the Doctor says, all teeth and love.

They chuckle.

"I miss you, you know," Jacks says simply.

"I'm here."

"No,´ Jack gestures. `I miss _you_."

"Oh."

And then the Doctor has nothing else to say, his lips close with a dry sound, _oh_. And Jack doesn't really want to break his heart like that but the Doctor, unlike some, can afford it.

The waterfall stops.

All this time, and Jack has never known exactly how that works.

 

\--

 

`Do you still miss him, sometimes?´ Jack asks one day, or one night, it doesn't matter, out of the blue. But it had to be asked, really. He takes her hand in his in the manner of some encouragement. 

`No,´ Martha says without thinking.

Jack squeezes her hand.

`Yeah, me too.´

 

 

**Mickey**

 

They end up being neighbours, funnily enough. Not on purpose, it just happens that the flat above Martha's is really the best Mickey has seen. She found her place quickly while Mickey lingered in a hotel room because he liked the view and the overpriced snacks.

And it's convenient, really, this closeness, as it turns out. Not just work-wise, but they can help each other carry the bags from shopping – so much that in the end they just give up and start doing the shopping together, there's a Tesco in Mermaid Quay and Martha can make doctor-ish appalled faces at the unhealthy food Mickey seems to consume in tons.

And sometimes living ceiling to floor next to each other is convenient in that Mickey sometimes comes down at midnight and they can talk shop if it has been a particularly shitty day at work and Mickey can rampage Martha's fridge, which has nothing specially appealing but Mickey is learning to appreciate her taste for strawberry yoghurt and Martha always tells him to put his pants on when he comes by because seriously, someone can see him in the stairs and what would the neighbours think.

When the weather is nice enough they walk to work together and when it's not Martha drives them. Mickey learns very fast that Martha should drive. He catches himself short of thinking “I didn't know chicks could drive so well” because _wow, sexist, Mickey_ ; he is really trying to be more politically correct these days. Easier said than done, under the regime of Captain Jack Harkness – both Martha and Mickey get used to hearing the word “dildo” at least twice every day at work.

So Martha drives but Mickey chooses the music. Much to Martha's annoyance. That girl needs to learn about real music and luckily Mickey is here to teach her.

Martha rolls her eyes at the new Usher D cd.

`Sometimes you are too much South London Council Estate for me,´ she tells Mickey.

`That is so classist, sister,´ Mickey teases in kind. `No everybody can come from such a good middle-class family, Doctor Jones.´

`Well, _Mister Smith_ , you support Chelsea so you have no right to talk class. I support Arsenal.´

And so it goes each morning and sometimes it gets real ugly like when Martha jokes about Mickey's boycrush on Ashley Cole. Mickey supposes they are friends now that they can talk class and football, real proper friends, which is weird because the only girl friend Mickey has ever had is Rose, and she was also his _girlfriend_. This being-friends-with-a-girl-you-don't-wanna-shag stuff is quite cool, actually.

 

\--

 

At work, Mickey seems to enjoy hunting down Weevils most of all, because it's easy, it's simple, logical and all the complications can be foreseen before going on the mission.

`And I thought you were going to be my Owen,´ Jack tells Martha one night as Mickey comes back to the vehicle with a Weevil in tow.

Mickey takes his seat behind Jack panting happily.

`So you are one for a bit of gratuitous violence,´ Jack comments. `Good to know.´

Martha sees him shrug from the rear mirror. But she also sees his expression, resolute, caring, and brave.

`Look, I spent twenty years of my life living a half-assed, dull, ordinary life of cans of beer and watching footie. And then I met the Doctor and I started doing extraordinary things. And you know what, Jack? I'm good at extraordinary things. So hell yeah, I'm enjoying this shit.´

`Language,´ Martha says, starting the engine, and Jack snickers at that.

`You are good, Mickey,´ Jack adds as an afterthought. `You really are.´

 

\--

 

And then one afternoon the sun is so high that Mickey can hardly see where he is going, the edges of people and places blurred into light like in a good dream, or like when you are in love. He is about to come into work by the Tourist Information door -he likes this entrance better because he can steal mints from Ianto and his _that's for visits only_ bowl.

But then he hears someone call his name.

Well, not really his name.

`Hey, Ricky.´

Mickey turns around towards the voice, his heart pounding so much it hurts.

He is wearing the most ridiculous sunglasses _ever_ and God, Mickey has missed him. Like a bloody idiot, but he has.

`What's with the silly shades?´

`This? You'd never guess what a sunny tourist spot Pluto becomes by the sixtieth century. Aren't they brilliant?´

`No, they are not.´ 

And they laugh. At each other. At themselves. It doesn't matter.

`So, have you heard anything from...?´ Mickey asks after five minutes of platitudes, weather chat and smiles.

The Doctor doesn't even pretend he doesn't know what Mickey is asking. 

`Nah,´ he answers. `I thought I'd leave her alone for now. You know, give them room. It's not like- Why? Do you want me to check if she is alright?´

Mickey shakes his head, and thinks the _no_ is more for the Doctor's sake than his. The refusal to say her name, back to his old tricks. Mickey wonders if there is ever going to be a space without ghost between the Doctor and him. But Mickey also knows there are many more ghosts the Doctor has to take care of.

`You're coming for Martha,´ Mickey says simply.

The Doctor looks at him hard. He touches the back of his neck like he does when he is nervous or when he can't come up with a plan.

`What do you mean? I have no-´

Mickey laughs at that. Because he has to. Because really, immortal time traveller or not, the Doctor is such a lad.

`Come on. You have those puppy eyes. Don't try to tell me otherwise. I've had nightmares with those puppy eyes when I was with Rose.´

The Doctor huffs, then switches all his weight from foot to foot, tiptoeing on the asphalt. He replies with his eyes down, down, down.

`I have no idea what you are talking about. I have no intention of-´ Then he suddenly straightens his clothes and takes Mickey's hand, shaking it cordially. `Goodbye, Mickey.´

And he walks away. Quickly. Suspiciously quickly. 

Mickey sees a little spot of blue on the horizon, past the Norwegian Church, and feels the most horribly pang of nostalgia.

 

 

**Ianto**

 

She is quiet, almost unnoticeable when she likes. Invisible. Ianto likes that. Ianto loves that. They could have easily been brother and sister, and the surnames correspondence is quite fitting, really.

And Martha likes him because -actually, she likes him mainly because it's the only one in Torchwood with eating habits that don't make her cringe. She has finally given up on telling Gwen that eating _cold_ pizza four nights a week wasn't a good long-term plan.

So she is more than happy to oblige when Ianto shows an interest in her fruit salads.

`No, it's just that-´ Ianto says one day, a pained expression on his face. `Tosh used to eat those, too.´

`Oh,´ Martha looks away. Then, after a moment, she smiles weakly at Ianto, offering her cup. `Well, she had a good head over her shoulders, we are safe.´

 

\--

 

`Mickey has a girlfriend,´ Ianto announces carelessly one lunch with Gwen and Martha.

Martha almost chokes on her turkey and orange salad.

`Oh my God,´ Gwen says. `He's been here, what, three weeks?´

`How do you know?´ Martha asks Ianto.

`Please, don't tell me you had a heart-to-heart buddy chat with him,´ Gwen says, barely containing the laughter. `Because the mental image of _that_ is just too hilarious.´

`No, no. No,´ Ianto almost blushes. `I saw him with a girl in the Red Dragon centre yesterday.´

`The Red Dragon? What is he, fourteen?´ Gwen jokes. 

`I- Mmm, I recognize the girl, though. She works at the Starbucks in the Bay. Does a good white mocha, too.´

`The Starbucks in the Bay, uh?´ Gwen ponders. `Near home _and_ work. Nice.´

`Well, our Mickey is nothing if not pragmatic,´ adds Martha.

`And ecological,´ Ianto says. `Think of the fuel he'll save.´

After a moment, the three of them burst out laughing.

 

\--

 

`You didn't have to refuel. Did you?´ Ianto asks as he handles the Doctor the Rift controls.

`Not for another hundred years or so, no,´ the Doctor says without looking at him. The TARDIS almost _sings_ at the first release of energy.

`Then why would you...?´

The Doctor turns to Ianto with a bright and fake smile.

`Because I'm very good at making up excuses,´ he says.

 

\--

 

Five minutes into his very witty -he thinks- monologue about alien pest control and police cooperation Ianto realizes Martha is not paying attention. They are sitting on the couch in the Hub and she has been staring at the same page of a report since he joined her. And it's not even a very interesting page.

`Martha, I was-´ 

`Yes, you were-´

`No, you weren't listening.´

Martha looks at him. It's all incomplete sentences and social awkwardness between them. Jack told Ianto that Martha saved the world once on her own and Ianto, looking at her like now, so tiny, so discrete, sometimes wonders exactly _how_.

`Sorry,´ she apologizes. `Rough night.´

`Rough night?´ Ianto gestures about, indicating the calm state of things in the Hub.

Martha puts her knees under her chin, crawling up in the couch, occupying even less space than before.

`No. I mean- Personally.´ She sighs, `I had to speak with my ex-fiancée today.´

`Oh.´ Ianto feels definitely uncomfortable upon hearing that. 

`You know what the hardest part is? It's really silly but it was returning the engagement ring. I felt so rubbish doing that.´

Ianto makes a non-committal sound.

`Sorry. None of your business. I shouldn't have-´

`No, no,´ Ianto shakes his head. `I- Lisa and I were talking about getting married when... when the Cybermen... well, you know. Canary Wharf.´

He suddenly misses Lisa and it's a good kind of _missing_ actually. All he remembers now are weekends in bed and soft touch of Lisa's legs under the covers; how she should swallow him whole like a monster, but a tender one; how she tasted like exotic fruit, with an afterthought of bitter and wonder. The normalcy of Sundays in bed pretending to be ordinary people with boring jobs. Yes, he misses Lisa, and for the first time he is glad about it. He looks at Martha Jones and wishes he could tell her, that he is all right, and he is glad to be here with her. A wave of warmth and likeness for this girl overcomes him in a moment.

Martha is quiet and pulls her fingers into a soft fit in her lap.

`Yes,´ she says. `I'm sorry. I lost my cousin there, too. Canary Wharf.´

_Mmmph_ Ianto mutters and they stand like that for a moment, sitting shoulders touching while the rest of the place happily quiets down in a hum of wires and power. Then they decide that's quite enough intimacy for two quiet people and they go back to their tasks, Ianto cataloguing alien artefacts and Martha reviewing reports for Jack, bureaucrat's work but apparently it's because Martha is good at them – also the only one who has decent handwriting. For a doctor, anyway.

Martha falls asleep on the couch of the Hub over files and files about UFO sightings in Barry.

She wakes up at six, before anyone has arrived yet. She wakes up and she has Ianto's jacket draped over her body.

 

 

**Gwen**

 

It is the roaring, the thundering noise of the best stadium in the world (to her, at least). It's the earthquake under your feet of hopes and excitement, it's the clapping, it's the smell of beer the smell of sweat the smell of testosterone. It is the bit of national pride Gwen carries everywhere. Gwen just loves it and it's the way the maul breaks and she and Ianto hug each other and jump around excitedly and Martha looks up at them as if they were crazy, but lovely anyway.

`Well, that was something,´ Martha comments appraisingly as they exit the Millennium Stadium. But like she was talking to two children who needed her approval.

It's weird to see Ianto out of his suit.

It's weird to see him smiling and shouting and gesturing a thousand strategies with his hands up to the sky, and in happiness. It is a bright afternoon, one of those almost summery in which the sun lasts a little longer in the sky than expected.

`You were lucky,´ Gwen is explaining, stealing the last Mentos from Ianto despite his protests. `Your first match and you see New Zealand. They are great.´

`Now we need to drag Jack here someday,´ Ianto adds.

Gwen half-huffs, half-smiles, putting her hand in Ianto's pocket like young and frostbitten but in open sun or like she and Ianto were Siamese twins, saying, `But he is such a bloody American.´

And Martha, who normally only likes football and golf and maybe Roger Federer, has to admit that yes, New Zealand were great.

 

\--

 

Jack puts too much sugar in his coffee, Gwen thinks, she's always thought. Maybe they came to this Starbucks just to annoy Mickey's girlfriend but it's not her shift so Jack sits back and mopes for two minutes and a fourteen seconds about it.

`Okay, about this new recruitment thing,´ Jack starts, looking at Martha but taking care of Gwen from the corner of his eyes.

Gwen doesn't really mind that Martha seems to be Jack's right hand these days; it leaves Gwen room for her projects, for doing what she does best and she guesses Martha is basically doing the small, menial, thankless job that gets in the way of everything else. And when Jack it's not around Martha keeps her _right hand_ role and Gwen takes charge of Jack's, so there's no real hierarchy envy here.

But Martha feels uncomfortable with this request, fiddling with the spoon in her Tazo tea. Peppermint.

`You are senior Torchwood officer now,´ Jack goes on, all tactically minded and adult. `It is within your responsibilities. You have the power of veto if you want. But helping to choose the new staff is part of your job. And as former UNIT member you know _things_. And I trust your judgement.´

Gwen likes him like this, with proper, sharp words. With consonants and vowels that are precise and trustworthy. She likes him with his watch ticking in his pocket and all the buttons of his shirt done up. _Yes, boss. Of course, boss_. The Jack she would die for.

`Seriously, Jack, you are asking the most socially inept person ever to judge based on first impressions.´ Martha turns to Gwen: `If Gwen says he is reliable, I trust her.´

`Martha...´ Jack cuts in. Boss-like, definitely.

Martha tilts her head and Gwen can tell she is not that comfortable taking orders, after all. Maybe they are very alike, Gwen thinks, remembering that Jack tells tales about her, about _once upon a time_ and _she was a legend, Martha Jones_ with that look on his face that means he believes no one understands those words, and it's better that way.

`Okay, I'll think about it,´ Martha complies, taking Andy's file in her hands.

 

\--

 

She and Rhys have a row. One of the big ones. The gigantic ones. One of those “I'm not sure if I want to have kids right now” and “Well, maybe you don't want to have kids with me” and “Don't be stupid” and “Stop calling me stupid” kind of big rows.

Gwen is not worried. That sort of thing, it doesn't worry her. They wouldn't have these fights if deep down, they didn't care. Sometimes she curls her fingers into fits so tightly that her knuckles go blue and white, and she knows there's still a bit of love there.

And mainly, she thinks Rhys is pissed off because she didn't take him to the rugby match.

 

\--

 

Martha is standing by the doorframe with a ridiculous t-shirt that reads “GPs have more fun. 2006.” of which she is beginning to feel very conscious. But she likes to wear it when she is working late at home because it is well-worn and soft around the neck. She didn't mean anyone to see, much less Gwen Cooper.

To Gwen's defence, one must say she does a good job of not snorting or giggling when she sees it.

`I already told Rhys I was staying with a friend. Please?´

`Well. Okay. Of course. Come in. It's just that. I have to finish these reports for Jack first.´

`Sure. No prob. I won't get in your way. I can make the dinner meanwhile. And by make the dinner I mean phone the pizza place.´

Martha smiles nervously and leaves room for Gwen to walk into the flat. She peeks gingerly and excited at Martha's living room. There are medical books pile on the coffee table and by each ends of the couch, on the floor, thick volumes with the covers the colour of blood. A couple of photocopied articles from The Indian Medicine Review, a UNIT-classified file and a paperback novel about the life of Oliver Cromwell.

`I had imagined it _tidier_.´

Martha blushes: `Yes, that's a common mistake. I'm clean but messy.´

 

\--

 

After dinner Gwen sighs her way onto the couch.

`I really wish you had alcohol,´ she comments. `Not even a beer.´

`Why?´ Martha says, picking up the plates.

`Because it's much easier to have a proper conversation with a co-worker when you are drunk.´

Martha blinks once. Twice.

`You guys are fucked.´

`I think it's the first time I hear you curse.´ 

`Possibly.´

And she goes into the kitchen to do the washing with a wicked smile on her face. Well, as wicked at she manages. She is Martha Jones, after all.

 

\--

 

`I'm not really sure how I feel about Andy working in Torchwood. If it happens.´

`I thought you'd be happy,´ Martha frowns. This is new to her.

`Yes. I mean, I totally vouch for him. It's just that- It'll be weird, you know.´

`But you were partners before.-´

`He is in love with me,´ Gwen says, almost too casually. She feels she should be more serious about it, out of loyalty for Andy.

Martha's expression curls into a discreet _Oh_.

`Really? Wow. I mean, well, who wouldn't. Sorry, sorry. I don't normally do this.´

`What?´

`Girls' conversations. Talk about boys and such.´

`No?´

`No. I mean. You are married. I can't even imagine how it feels to-´ And she looks down, instinctively, at her hand. She never wore the ring long enough to leave a trace of paler skin behind. It's sad, really, Martha thinks. `I was going to- I mean. I was engaged. Once.´

It sounds like _I went to the moon once_. Which. Yes. Exactly.

`Ianto told me,´ Gwen admits. `What happened?´

`Nothing. I don't know, really. Just that- I've only been in love once in my life.´

`And it wasn't with your fiancée...´ Gwen finishes for her.

`I really, really suck at relationships. Big time. So I have no idea if this _problem_ with Andy is going to be _a problem with Andy_. As Jack said. I have to think about how it might affect his work. And yours.´

Gwen shakes her head.

`Oh, no, no, no. No, it's okay. It won't affect the job. I promise. I slept with Owen, I should know.´

`You slept with Owen?´ Martha repeats.

Gwen shrugs. It seems like a million years ago. Sometimes she remembers what Owen tasted like, his skin, his mouth, slightly citrus and angry. But most days she can't remember, and all that's left of that is her one foray into infidelity and a lot of sadness.

`We had a thing. A fling. A thing.´

Martha runs her hands through her hair.

`Jesus. You guys are unbelievable. What exactly does Ianto put in the coffee?´

 

\--

 

Gwen thinks that Andy looks exactly how she imagines him to react if she told him she was divorcing Rhys. Okay, something is very wrong with her if she goes around doing that kind of comparisons. What's wrong with “he looks like a kid at Christmas”?

`He said “yes”?´ Andy asks her, even though Jack is across him in the table. `I'm going to hunt aliens and stuff?´

`Oi. If you are going to call it _aliens and stuff_ , no, you are not,´ Jack says but Andy is no longer listening.

 

\--

 

She had no idea the Doctor actually knew where she lived.

He is waiting for her by her car. It's far too early in the day, but he is a time traveller, it might be noon for him, who knows. At first Gwen catches her breath upon seeing him because maybe something happened, maybe there's something wrong and he has to save them, or not save them, or someone has died. But he smiles at her with that half-lost puppy, half-King of the World smile which doesn't work on Gwen because hey, she's been working under Jack for over two years.

`Gwen Cooper,´ he says. `I really like your face. I liked it before you were you, but I like it even more now.´

`Doctor,´ she says in clipped tones, feeling ridiculous saying his ridiculous name. 

He looks at her, hurt, the concept of _being in a hurry_ seems to hurt him deeply and he is blocking the way to the car. He has an odd look around him rather than on him, Gwen thinks; he wasn't like this the last time she saw him and everybody was going to die. He seems wiser and somehow confused. Not entirely lost but rather _misplaced_. Gwen feels a moment of tenderness for his messy hair and his sad eyes.

`Oh, yes, work, of course,´ he says, clearing the way to the vehicle. `Normal lives defending the earth and the whole shebang. Except, wait. Can I ask you a favour?´

Gwen throws her shoulder back and he interprets this as a tentative “yes, okay”. He searches his pockets and produces a long, red scarf from the left one. He handles it to Gwen. 

She examines it like it might be a snake, dangerous.

`Can you give this to Martha?´ He asks.

`It's a scarf.´

The Doctor frowns.

`It's a _brilliant_ scarf. Made from the best silk in the Purple-Sigma system. Well, before the Vegetable Uprising, anyway. You don't have to tell her that. Just give her the scarf.´

Gwen folds the scarf carefully and puts it in her handbag.

`And why can't you give it to her yourself?´

The Doctor shrugs and starts walking away.

`I'm working on it, Gwen Cooper.´

 

 

**Andy**

 

And what is this light in Andy's eyes as he runs across Roal Dahl Plass? Not just that this is a very sunny day, strangely enough for Cardiff but he chooses not to read it as a sign or as destiny or whatever. He runs even if he is not late. He feels nervous and excitable and tactile like the first day of school when you are three, or fourteen, years old.

It is very possible that he has buttoned his shirt way, way up and that's why he can hardly breathe.

Okay, it's _more_ than possible and later Gwen undoes the first button and laughs in that way of hers that feels like when you wake up very early but you don't want to go back to sleep.

The first thing he does in Torchwood is learn how to work the espresso machine; Ianto teaches him with such patronizing efficiency that Andy decides right there, within twenty minutes of his first day in his new job, that this Ianto is a dick. Not as much a dick as Jack but Andy has been on Jack's case for a long time now. 

And Jack, well, he is up in his bloody big glass office, talking to that other new guy Mickey about something, throwing maps in the air and checking guns that can't possibly be from Earth -Andy is learning fast to undress his language from such misconceptions- and checking them out like they were girls or something.

Gwen rolls her eyes: `Testosterone,´ she complains conspiratorially and to Andy. And Bloody Hell, Gwen, Andy has to bite down a roaring laughter cause Gwen is much more of a _guy_ than any man Andy has ever met and the way she drinks beer from the bottle and the way she can beat anyone at keeping awake in their legendary Bruce Willis VHS marathons can confirm this; Andy is waiting for some sort of medical test that confirms that Gwen has indeed more testosterone than he does. It doesn't matter; he kissed her once, when drunk, and she totally tasted like a girl, Bruce Willis obsessions be damned, one hundred per cent girl Gwen.

Halfway that morning Andy is beginning to get the knack of Torchwood's computer system when Jack decides he needs to get going in the target practice.

`I'm a copper, you know,´ Andy argues and Jack gives him this totally amused and derisive look and Andy concludes that on his first day at his new job he already hates his boss. But it's Monday, so he is entitled to.

 

\--

 

It's been decided that Martha Jones should give him some lessons in the shooting range. Because apparently Gwen is not good enough, and Mickey is not patient enough and Jack, well, Jack probably considers it below him.

Andy knows very little about Martha apart from that she is quiet and a doctor. And that Gwen likes her, and that's enough for him to like her since the first day they met a couple of weeks ago when he got offered the job. And Gwen likes her a lot. Not in the lesbian kind of way. Well, not that Andy is aware of, he reflects; although after meeting her he had thought about that kind of way in the shower a couple of times but then forgot all about it. Martha is pretty, but not ongoing-wanking-fantasy memorable.

Still, it's kind of weird when she puts her hands on his hips, correcting his movement. It's not erotic or anything, Martha is very professional but it still feels weird, to be touched so intimately when it will not lead to anything else, anything more.

`You have very good aim, good hand-eye coordination,´ Martha says with a shy smile after they finish with the first round of bullets. Andy feels smug about it, maybe it's her smile, maybe it's the he believes her instinctively. But then she adds: `But you have a problem.´

So Andy is one of those people who flinch in advance of the recoil, which makes him a bit of a girl, he guesses, but Martha doesn't seem to think less of him for that. Instead, she gives him a revolver with half the chambers empty and doesn't tell him which shots are live and which are not so Andy has to act as if they all are.

`It's very easy to correct,´ she tells him. `We'll get you there with a little patience.´

It's one of those things that Andy guesses they should teach you at the Academy but they are too useless to and happy enough with everybody being a mediocre shot.

`Where does a doctor learn such a trick?´ Andy asks her, really curious because _really, where?_

`Learned it in my _gap year_ ,´ she replies without looking at him, putting the guns away meticulously, and with a tone of voice so defensive, so concealed that Andy knows right away there's so much more to it.

 

\--

 

By the end of his first day Andy learns that drinking with your co-workers until blind is going to be part of his job prescription.

Martha doesn't seem to be drinking that much, just sipping her apricot liquor and smiling at Jack as he tries to drag her to sing something in the karaoke contest – Gwen and Ianto are _murdering_ “Girls just wanna have fun” and Martha says _no, thanks but no_ even if Jack is pouting now; Andy has to give it to the girl, resisting Jack's pouting, of which Andy has heard endless tales.

`I have shame, you know, Jack, unlike others.´

`You are so sober,´ Mickey tells her like an accusation. Andy drunkenly nods at that.

`I don't drink much,´ Martha says once Gwen and Ianto have returned to their table. `Try putting yourself through medical school with hangover.´

`I'm sure Owen would disagree with your view,´ Jack says and then everybody goes silent for a split of a second and Martha and Gwen exchange an odd glance that Andy catches but doesn't understand. 

And then Jack proposes a toast in Owen's memory and everybody knocks down a shot of tequila, even Martha Jones.

 

\--

 

So Martha teaches him how to shoot and three weeks into his new job Andy manages to fuck it up big time and she has to save his ass, too. 

`I'm sorry, I'm sorry,´ he mutters hysterically, lying on the grass on Bute Park in the middle of the night, covered half in his own blood, half in alien goo.

Martha checks his wounds as she is trying to calm him down; no, she doesn't think it's anything serious, Andy doesn't think so, either, just a couple of very messy and ultimately skin-deep cuts but it's the adrenaline, the adrenaline and the surreality of the situation, so much that Andy practically starts giggling.

`Don't apologize, you idiot,´ Martha tells him; wow, Andy has never heard her insult anyone, not even in jest. `That thing was twice your size and had sharp paws. Don't apologize for not taking it down. Just... be careful. Okay?´

That's when Jack arrives at the scene; he kneels besides Andy and Andy sees his face and fuck, he is angry; he is angrier than Andy has ever seen him, he thinks he is going to get fired for sure, bye bye Torchwood, and bye Gwen, and Martha and Mickey, and even that dick of Ianto who turned out to be not such a dick, after all. It's back to being PC Andy for the rest of his life, he is sure of it.

Jack grabs him by the shoulders and even though Andy is on the ground -and wounded, let's not forget that- he starts shaking him like he was trying to wake him up.

`Don't. Do. That. Again.´ Jack says between his teeth and what Andy has mistook for anger in his eyes was and is, actually, fear. A kind of very warm and present fear and Andy realizes; wow. 

_Wow_.

 

\--

 

Sometimes she disappears. A couple of days at the time. Jack seems to know where she goes but he is gleefully secretive about it.

`Oh, you know, one of her trips,´ Gwen says simply and Andy guesses it has something to do with her being a doctor, but he doesn't know. And maybe he thinks the Hub is much more fun when she is around and maybe he misses her a bit when she goes on those trips of hers.

One day she comes back with her lower lip split and her left hand bandaged.

`I told you to be careful,´ Jack admonishes her.

`I was careful,´ Martha says as she walks hand in hand with Jack into his office; Andy thinks she looks happier than he's ever seen her, bruised and battered and all. She gestures wildly: `But you know... Silurians!´

`Wow. Really?´ Jack asks. `Tell me _everything_.´

 

\--

 

It's late, incredibly late, but Andy has already learned that nothing goes according to timetables and hours of light here in Torchwood. He left a normal life for this, he reminds himself, and he is starting to ease himself into the routine. There are almost-empty boxes of pizza _everywhere_ , a classic of the place too, apparently, and Mickey snoring heavily on the couch.

`Gwen?´ He says.

Gwen looks up from the file she is reading. It's four in the morning and she looks clear-eyed and fierce.

`Yes?´

`Is it wrong to wish that your best friend's marriage fails?´ Andy asks quietly.

Gwen sighs.

`Yes, Andy. It is wrong. Very wrong.´

 

\--

 

A time machine. No, no, no; a TIME MACHINE. On top of all things, here in Cardiff, a bloody time machine, Andy thinks as he watches... well, _himself_ , as he watches himself entering the ship. The ship. Another one. The five-minutes-ago ship. Two bloody time machines in Cardiff.

`Wow,´ he says as he tries to stop his brain from falling through his ears.

Jack chuckles and this other guy, this Doctor, this _alien_ , looks at him all wide eyes and pleased.

`I-´ Andy starts but his tongue won't make it further than that.

`That was only a five minutes into the past trip, relax,´ Jack tells him, making him sit on the bench by the waterfall.

`He looks bright and naïve, I like him,´ the Doctor says.

Jack fixes him a suspicious look.

`You can't keep him, Doctor. He is mine.´

Andy is not sure how he feels about being _Jack's_ but he is a certified time traveller now so, everything put into perspective, he doesn't really care. Jack can claim his ass any day he wants, he is Andy The Time Traveller now.

But the Doctor seems to take Jack's concern seriously and he dismisses it with a wave of hands.

`Oh. Well. Okay. I have Martha.´

`Yes, and you'd better return her safely,´ warns Jack. `No more sprained ankles or cuts on the lips or I will be restricting your visiting privileges. I mean it.´

`But Jack!´ The Doctor throws his hands in the air. `Silurians! And you thought Martha got it bad? You should have seen _me_.´

`You are immortal, you can handle it.´ 

`Immortal?´ Andy repeats, wide-eyed.

`One big revelation at a time, Jack,´ the Doctor reprehends. `You don't want to cause this poor human a heart attack.´

Then from out of nowhere -or from out of Torchwood's lift, which is to say nowhere- Martha comes in and joins them with a smile and a red scarf.

`We are leaving,´ she announces, locking her arm with the Doctor's. `Wanna come, Jack?´

Jack is tempted for a moment, despite the “I really wanted some quality time alone with Martha”-kind of look from the Doctor. In the end he shakes his head.

`Nah. These kids would burn the whole Hub down if I weren't here to supervise.´

`Don't think so, Jack,´ Martha says, putting her hand on Andy's shoulder. `Captain Andy here will get you retired if you aren't be careful.´

Andy blushes a bit.

`And I'm too old for this, anyway,´ Jack adds, gesturing towards the TARDIS.

`Yeah, right,´ Martha sighs.

The Doctor shrugs: `Well, the offer stands. _Always_.´

But he takes Martha's hand in his and sort of drags her away towards the ship before Jack can change his mind.

`Well, we are we going?´ Martha asks as they make it to the door.

The Doctor pretends he thinks about it, adopting a mock-mysterious expression.

`I was thinking...1796?´ 

`Why? What is in 1796?´ Martha demands excitedly.

And the Doctor gives her a crooked smile.

`Jane Austen is writing _Pride and Prejudice_.´

`Cool, let's go,´ and at the last possible moment, peeking her head through the TARDIS' door, she turns to Jack and Andy. `See you on Monday.´

There are some shouts of _come on, Martha_ inside and she rolls her eyes and closes the door.

Jack and Andy are left on the bench with the whooshing sound of the ship taking off ringing in their ears. The ship is gone and a seagull looks around, confused, fixing a curious gaze on Jack.

Andy looks at the spot as if he could discern some sort of wake in the air. He can't.

`What's the story there?´ He asks, pointing at the now-absence of the TARDIS.

Jack puts his arm around Andy's shoulders.

`Well. It's kind of complicated, actually. See, Andy, some people get endings. Some people even get _happy_ endings. Those two? They get to be Martha and the Doctor, and that's the best I can explain, really.´

Andy stares at the nothingness. He doesn't get it. But he works in Torchwood now, the amount of things he doesn't get and bluffs his way through are piling up and piling up. Maybe that's what they all do, actually.

And then Jack pats his back.

`Come on, there's work to be done. _Captain Andy_.´

Andy follows him to the lift by the waterfall.

He thinks that when Martha comes back they still have some work to do in the shooting range. He thinks that he's improved a lot but is still scared of the recoil a bit.

He also thinks he doesn't really hate his boss anymore. 

And anyway it's Friday.


End file.
